Why him?
by hanbilbs
Summary: Bakugou Katsuki tries to empty his thoughts into a notebook, with questionable results.


It's laying in front of him, blissfully unaware to the turmoil flooding in Katsuki's head, taunting him, mocking him. He eyes it warily, twisting a pen in his fingers as he contemplates his further actions. The empty pages holding his gaze for over an hour now, a staring match which at this point may never end until one submits or, was it a test he put on himself? To see if he would give up, burn the pages to unidentifiable pieces in his rage, instead of writing even one line.

Fuck that.

He's going to destroy this fucking notebook and fill every page by 9PM! He uncaps his pen, and while maintaining fierce eye contact, slowly pulls the useless pages towards him, following each and every moment as he slid it across the bed.

When pen meets paper, any notions of consciousness seemed to leave Bakugou's brain. There's nothing, what would he even write about? He presses down harder, absentmindedly watching as the ink seeps around the pen's tip, drenching through multiple pages until the pen broke through. How does Deku do this? He observes Deku, how he hides behind his notebooks, the light scratching as his pen flies over every page.

If Deku could do this, he would do it 100 per cent better!

He rescues his pen from its inky pit and tries to rest it gently on the page. What could he write about?

Training?

Pro heroes?

… Friends?

The first two may be useful topics, the third fucking stupid, but nothing appeared on the page in front of him.

Why is this so fucking difficult?

Smoke billows from his palms, encasing the pen in his fist. In an impromptu rise of rage, he rips the page out and throws it across the room, getting an odd sense of triumph seeing it fall to the floor. It's pathetic. This is all pathetic, he would save the stupid book for his school notes, not for this…Whatever this is or was supposed to be.

But if shitty Deku could do it why couldn't he?

Katsuki tightens his fist again; gritting his teeth as blunt nails breach the skin of his palm.

He shut his eyes, some part of him yearns, for the first time, to give up this ongoing battle, surrender just until the right words eventually surface. A phrase his mum used to say whenever he let his impatience be known shoves its way into his conscious, "If you glare at simmering water it will never boil!", although he's heard it said other ways.

Despite his temporary blindness, Bakugou could feel its vengeful stare, boring into his hidden eyes, as he attempts to focus on anything besides the notebook.

Is this how Deku feels? Like… if he doesn't write anything, he failed? Katsuki can't fucking fail! He's better than Deku.

His anger bubbles under his skin again, threatening to explode everything within reach, including the fucking stupid piece of shit lying on his bed.

Explode…

He should go and confront Deku about this, shove him against a wall and demand him to tell Katsuki _how_. Maybe let off small explosions in his palms to make him talk. Although the explosions may be unnecessary, he could get Deku to rant effortlessly if he tries, and sometimes Katsuki finds himself talking to Deku on his own accord, seeking him out when the extras aren't hovering around him.

They've been getting closer…

But something is bound to crumble… to be ground into pitiful pieces of worthless crap… if they're left in the rubble, he isn't sure if they could rebuild again, or if he would even want to. So far, after their second fight, only the foundation is rebuilt. Sometimes all Katsuki wants is to destroy it himself, disintegrate it, close his eyes and unleash his quirk on it, hoping the chaos would dominate any other sound. However, somehow, he fucking knew that muffled tears would haunt his ears. Other times, he wanted to only observe its progress, hidden in the sidelines, but nothing was built. When he caught shitty Deku staring or when they found each other in the hallways, maybe it grew, _maybe_. But he mostly wanted to forget his quirk for a minute, as he unleashes his rage onto the steel foundation, only his fists. He could imagine… feel… the burning pain leftover on his knuckles as blood, from every punch against the too hard metal, marred and drenched his skin.

Destruction… explosions always seem to follow him. However, sometimes it was quiet, like when he's focusing solely on homework, barely registering the consistent thud of drums bleeding from his headphones. A match was lit around Deku. Whenever Katsuki meets Deku's too green eyes, he feels it, the fire running rapidly down the fuse.

He's yet to see the explosion.

He hopes Deku hasn't seen it either.

Fucking hell, why couldn't he focus on anything apart from the shitty nerd. Why did all his thoughts come back to him? Fuck, what he would give to-

A loud crash abruptly tears him from his troubling chasm of thoughts, he wrenches his eyes open as his heart thunders from the sudden threat. For a moment, fear grips him, holds him by the throat, as he studies the room, his window. Maybe those assholes are coming back for him! Small explosions spark from his shaking palms to use the momentum to vault himself from his bed. He would deal with the scorch marks later.

Just as he's getting ready to blast through his door, another crash echoes from the hallway and a chorus of mutters follow it. Katsuki relaxes his posture, if only a bit, as he recognises the voices of some. "Shut the hell up extras, I'm trying to fucking thi- study in here asswhipes!"

"Just trying to lift some things Bakubro."

"Sorry, Kacchan!"

He storms over to his door and growls, "Pick your shit up and get the fuck away from my door," and for good measure, he lights a few small explosions in his hands to ensure they, however many of them are out there, got the message.

When he's sure they have all gone, he walks over to his bed again, and pointedly ignores the still open notebook lying only inches away from the scorch marks. He, instead, sits on the other end and lets his eyes fall shut again. He's going to think of something to write in this shitty notebook even if it's the last thing he does!

Before he could focus again, the unmistakable sound of trainers shuffling towards his door distracts him from his mission and drenches his face into a scowl. "Sorry again, Kacchan, I was the one who kept dropping things," a sheepish voice said on the other side of his door.

"Whatever, just get the fuck out of here Deku."

"Thanks, Kacchan." Katsuki could practically see the smile on Deku's face as he dismisses his shitty apology.

Forget One for All, Bakugou's sure Deku has an alternative quirk, namely pissing him off.

He forces his eyes shut again, not caring if Deku lingers any longer, as he didn't have time to keep yelling at the nerd. Katsuki is on a fucking time crunch to write anything, anything at all, in his fucking useless, shitty notebook by at least 9PM. It was already 8:30PM. When he gave himself the time parameter, he hoped he'd of filled the entire thing by now. Instead, all he has is a measly ink hole to show for his efforts.

Fucking Deku, he isn't about to be shown up by him or anybody again!

Someone moving outside his door catches his attention again, it's familiar, too familiar, somehow, he has come to recognise the mere sound of too heavy trainers being dragged around.

Maybe they've gotten too close.

A rope. It binds them together, from when Deku first began to follow him around, looked up at him with awe in his eyes, to now when Katsuki was having a… hard time catching up. He clutches his leg at this inner confession, his blunt nails digging into his pants, as he breathes erratically. In middle school, the rope withered into string, barely hanging on to them as Katsuki took every opportunity to bully Deku. When they started UA, it grew a little stronger, binds of string interlocking, tightening, maybe it was happy, after the break before school, for them to be back together again. Or something… He didn't fucking know. After their second fight, he could feel it. Sometimes he wants to tug Deku closer, other times saw the rope in half, but it never seemed to work. Katsuki hoped that it would get tighter and tighter, harder to breathe until it snapped. Would Deku notice or ignore the absence of the strange pull? Would they still seek each other out or pass each other in the hall as old strangers?

Whatever he wouldn't fucking care either way, if he could see Deku once or twice a day, just to check if he'd got any stronger, Katsuki would accept it. Maybe if he could see Deku's eyes occasionally, that wouldn't be too bad. He hates the extras' eyes; none are as open as Deku's. His seem to… spark… whenever their gazes meet. It just made him more comfortable to know what people are thinking. If Katsuki could keep an eye on him, _just_ to make sure he doesn't do anything fucking stupid, he could make sure One for All will live on.

Fucking stupid, shitty Deku…Deku.

Katsuki's eyes fly open as he searches the bed for his forgotten pen and hurriedly wrote down two scrawled words, albeit upside down, compared to the front text, but that didn't matter. He stares at the words in front of him, unblinkingly, a deep frown etches into his features.

What the hell does he do with this?

He throws his pen across the room, not caring when it hit the door with a loud thud. He didn't care about the words he wrote down. He definitely didn't care about the dork who might still be on the other side of the wall.

All he cares about is destroying this fucking notebook.

He shuts the stupid thing so he didn't have to stare at the weak words which would bore into him. The sight of the cover yanks any air which was formally found in his lungs and punches him in the face with it.

It's green.

A familiar green.

A green which he found himself staring at, occasionally, as he analyses each streak of dark and light.

A green which sometimes infuriates him and sometimes piques his curiously.

A green which could rival all the other shitty green colours out there.

A green which somehow reminds him of a time before.

Deku's green.

He must have yanked it from the shelf without noticing.

Katsuki grabs the notebook and hesitates only slightly, before sliding it under his pillow in one smooth motion. He glances at his clock to make sure he was within his time limit…

8:59PM.

No smirk forms on his face, instead he hopes that no one would find the words hidden under his pillow.

_Why him?_


End file.
